


Oh No, You're Not The One For Me

by redbrunja



Category: Justified
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>In polite company, Ava would describe herself as suffering from a bit of Spring fever.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh No, You're Not The One For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to my beta, oltha_heri !

In polite company, Ava would describe herself as suffering from a bit of Spring fever. In her less-than-polite mind, she knew that she was just randy. It wasn't much of a surprise; she'd been a week shy of seventeen and a month free of her virginity when she took up with Bowman and she'd tumbled directly from her marriage into Raylan's motel room.

She was used to having a man in her bed, or close enough to drag into one, so it wasn't a surprise that after a stretch of celibacy, she started feeling like her skin'd shrunk in the wash, her temper growing as brittle as an old rubber band.

And like hell was she going to screw Boyd. 

Ava was damned if she was going to live up to gossip that always found a way to her ears. 

 _I never believed a word of it_ , Dolly Cauldwell or Ally Weeks or Jess Ogle would start, eyes gleaming,  _but I heard you were sharing house with your brother-in-law; ex-brother-in-law, I should say_  (and sometimes there was a wasp-tongued interval on the termination of her marriage and sometimes they'd look at her like she was pitiable which was even worse)  _and folks are speculating that you plan on being Mrs Crowder twice._ Depending, this was either followed by veiled speculation on how she was going to get Boyd to marry her or well-meaning concern about the fact a Nice Girl like her was living with another one of the Crowders,  _you know what they're like._

(She did. She knew exactly what they were like.)

Ava would just sweetly smile at them as she snipped split ends and shaped face-framing bangs, and imagine stabbing them in the neck with her scissors.

There was no denying that she'd made some pretty bad decisions in her years, especially in regards to the men in her life, but living with Boyd wasn't one of them. And she wasn't about to turn a good choice into a bad one just to satisfying an itch between her thighs or some idle speculation on what Boyd's calloused hands would feel like touching her breasts.

"You look as if trouble is weighting heavy on your mind," Boyd said from behind her. The slight creaking of the porch under his weight was comforting but she still tapped ash of the end of her cigarette with sharp motions.

"No more than usual," Ava said dismissively, inhaling nicotine and exhaling frustration.

She waited, expecting a reply of some sort. The only one she got was the sound of a page turning.

She glanced over her shoulder. 

Boyd held his book carefully, tilted so that the pages caught the light spilling from between the curtains. His face was mostly in shadow but she could see that his eyes were fixed on the page, dark with the intensity he turned to just about everything, engrossed in his reading. 

Which was just dandy. It made a nice change from the years when he had been looking at her unblinkingly and creeping her out. Yep. Just dandy.

Ava stubbed out her cigarette and immediately lit up another just to have something to do with her hands. 

It was a pretty night, the darkness thick and heavy, barely a narrow sliver of moon and warm enough that she'd gone three cigarettes without goose-pimples rising on her arms. Even the mosquitoes held off, not yet ready to start their summer assault. There weren't many calm, peaceful evenings like this in Harlan. Either it was too cold, too muggy, too wet, or she was getting kidnapped.

Without question, it was the kind of evening that only came around once or twice a year.

Ava realized she was jiggling her leg like she was waiting for the bus. Spring fever, she told herself firmly, grinding out her cigarette with extreme prejudice, and stomped back into the house.

This time, she could feel Boyd's gaze on her like ice on the back of her neck but it wasn't anxiety twisting in her stomach.

He followed her, catching the screen door before it could bang shut. "Ava," he said, standing on the doorstep, her name coming out soft and slow.

There was a careful balance between them, Boyd helping her pay her mortgage while she lied to members of law enforcement, and Ava knew she was on the ragged edge of ruining that balance when she turned and fisted her hands in his shirt. Before Boyd could say one word more she was kissing him, standing on her toes to reach his mouth.

He rocked forward, cupping her hips, pulling her against him. When their lips parted, Ava was breathing harder than she'd expected and Boyd's eyes were closed.

"As pleasurable as kissing you was–" he started with resignation.

She put a hand over his mouth. His eyes opened, met hers, and when they did, Ava tossed her head, just a little, and bit her lip, just for a moment. She heard Boyd swallow.

"Shhh," she said, real low.

She hooked her index fingers in the loops of his jeans, started backing toward the couch, and he didn't say a word, just set himself to undoing the buttons of her dress, pop, pop, pop, and then he was pulling it down, baring her shoulders. Ava circled around, pushed him back onto the couch, shucked off her panties and straddled him, the motions familiar. Boyd kissed where her neck and shoulder joined, licked along the edge of her collarbone and she shuddered.

She unbuckled his pants, helped him shove his jeans down and this was her doing, all of it, but she felt out of control, Boyd stroking her hair, her back, his mouth finding every nerve in her neck and making her flushed and needy. He slid inside her, low moan in the back of his throat and Ava grabbed his wrists, pinned his hands to the back of the couch. She found the rhythm she wanted, the lust low in her belly spinning tighter and tighter while her nails dug hard into his skin. She came with Boyd's hips bucking up against hers, matching her pace, and muffled her cry into his shoulder.

She clenched and broke apart around him, legs trembling, and his voice was thick with desire when he groaned her name, his head thrown back against the couch.

After, she kept her back to him as she buttoned her dress back up.

"This is going to be something else we pretend never happened, " Ava said, and didn't stick around to see if he had a thing to say to that.


End file.
